Red
by glitterlavalamp
Summary: Quick one-shot from Victoria's perspective. Dark, angsty, etc, don't like, don't read.


A/N: Yes, yes, I know I should be working on my other Twilight story, but I'm sitting in the middle of a pile of boxes (we're moving at the moment), and my brain isn't up to continuing said story yet

**A/N:** Yes, yes, I know I should be working on my other _Twilight_ story, but I'm sitting in the middle of a pile of boxes (we're moving at the moment), and my brain isn't up to continuing said story yet. Plus, I was wondering the other day about Victoria. I mean, no one ever really pays attention to her except as a villain, but she did have a pretty good motivation for what she did. And now the idea won't leave me alone, so you get a one-shot from our favorite psychopathic redhead's perspective! :D

**Warning:** This is rated what it is for a reason. I just didn't feel it was right to make her too soft or sugarcoated, so I'm worried what turned out is a little disturbing. Read at your own risk.

**Disclaimer:** Yes! I own Twilight, Fullmetal Alchemist, Claymore, Lord of the Rings, Death Note, and Discworld to boot! Pfft, only in my dreams.

I sobbed when I realized I was a killer, you know? No, you probably don't. I'm just the bad guy. Just the freak with the red hair and the temper to match. And as a result, no one's ever dared to get close enough to know anything but the red, the anger, the impulsiveness, the vengefulness. But I did cry, choking and shaking, unable to actually cry actual tears, which might actually have made me an actual person in your eyes. The first year of my new life, I knew thirst, and only desperate thirst. And the result was that I drank, without even caring what I was doing. But…when the horrific _need_ to drink had abated enough for me to think clearly for five minutes at a time, I knew what I had become. I saw in my mind the faces of my victims, frozen with fear and realization, hating me with every fiber of their being and yet completely under my control. I saw my own family among them. What, you never thought someone like me could have a family? A mother, a father, a little brother? I loved them more than life itself, but they were prey just the same, sacrifices to my thirst while the tiny part of me that was still sane wept and screamed and hated me.

Their faces accused me, condemned me, and I knew that deep down they taunted me. They, for all their fear and frailty, could die, could leave the pain and darkness behind, trapping me further and further in it with each attempt to quench the burning in my throat. With the darkness inevitably came my own fear, which became my own anger, which became my own hatred, leaving me to choose between myself and the human lives I took. My victims were mortal anyway, they'd all die eventually, but I…I was different. I had to weather eternity, one way or the other, and driven to insanity by self-hatred was not the preferable option. So I grew to hate humans, to hate them for teasing me with death I could never have, and sunlight, and companionship, and love. I grew further and further away from humanity, shutting out all the emotions that made my existence unbearable, closing myself to the faces. In time, the sobbing stopped. I couldn't feel the guilt anymore, and the numbness was, if not welcome, a favorable replacement.

Eventually, when callousness keeps you alive, empathy dies to make room.

And that was when James found me, hunting in the alleys and slums of New York, isolated from everything around me and utterly alone. He was everything I needed- he knew, _and understood_, what I was, and reached out to me just the same. He knew what it was like to live in the darkness. And he never made the guilt come back, he kept me from being crushed by it when I had brief relapses of human emotion. He taught me that numbness wasn't the only answer, that I could find joy in power over my victims. I didn't have to hate myself, and I didn't have to endure forever without any happiness. The darkness wasn't something to fear anymore, even when it seemed to dominate my heart. James saved me from myself, and in return I made him my entire world. He was everything to me: my reason for living, my sanity, my love.

And when he was taken away, my world was destroyed.

So how can you blame for wanting to watch everyone else's burn in vengeance?

**A/N:** Ok, admittedly, that was a little dark. But I always wondered what had made Victoria who she was, and I don't think she was just born evil. Thank you very much for reading this far, I truly appreciate it! At the moment, this will be a one-shot, but if anyone wants me to write something else from her perspective, I'll consider adding more.

Cookies to anyone who reviews! And to anyone who knows where I got the comment about watching the world burn.


End file.
